And Happy Birthday to me!


One year today.One year of roller-coasting.”Bleeding over a piece of paper”and “write hard and clear about what hurts”, as Hemingway said.One year of pondering wise words of people past and present.Finding that one’s happiness and sorrow finds reflection in the lives of others, equally heavy people.Same music on different instruments…Meeting people virtually and imagining their flesh and blood beyond the keyboard.What makes them write so beautifully…New people.Or old people rediscovered as new.Continents apart or blocks apart.Apart.Yet closer through a click, or a like.Growing addiction to reading.Choosing a language to write in.Not writing for others, yet loving being read.Reading other blogs almost as if going through someone’s things or looking at their exposed chest:”This is who I am.See me.Listen to my voice.Understand me.Hold me. Make me feel less alone and more alive.”

The first year is the toughest.So they say.Or is it only about marriages?Or is it the first 2 years? Or 3, as Beigbeder says?or 8?15? Nevermind….Some loves do resist…So I’ve heard..

I am one year old today.One year of feeling immensely, dramatically.The only way I can….The only way I do…Leaking sometimes, glowing at others.If even one line I wrote made a difference, to anybody,it was worth it.It made the world to me.One year of radiance, of heaven and hell, sometimes in the same place….Life unfolding….with every heartbeat, with every sunrise and every sunset.Thank you for being part of my life, by reading my blog.

p.s.Cheers.Happy birthday. To me.



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